Eleven liars, p.12
Eleven Liars, page 12
part #2 of Ben Harper Series
‘Archie!’ came his mother’s voice.
‘It’s miles too big for him, he’s just trying to wind me up,’ Archie said, dragging a chair out from the table and staring at his brother. ‘What have you done with it?’
Ted looked up at his mum but said nothing. She walked to the back of the kitchen and pulled the hoodie out of the pile of clean washing. ‘Here,’ she said, pushing it into Archie’s chest. ‘Freshly laundered after being left on your bedroom floor.’
Archie took the sweatshirt and wrestled it over his head.
‘Do I get a thank you?’
‘Thanks,’ Archie mumbled to his mother.
‘And Ted?’ said his father.
Archie glared across the table. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘but if I catch you again—’
‘Leave it, Archie,’ said Amy, snapping.
Archie looked at Ted. ‘You know what I’m talking about.’
Ted swallowed hard before turning away. When he caught his mum’s eye, she smiled.
Archie reached for a piece of toast and took a quick bite. ‘I’ll buy a sandwich,’ he said, before downing a glass of juice. He reached for his rucksack on the back of his chair, stuffed his football boots inside and fastened his trainers to the back.
‘My wallet’s by the front door,’ said Jason. ‘You can take a tenner if you like.’
Ted saw his mother turn and look directly at his father. She said nothing.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Archie. ‘I’ve got money. And I’m working tonight so I’ll be back late.’
Ted looked up from his cereal. ‘Working again?’ he said, quietly.
‘Afraid so,’ replied Archie, his tone softer now. ‘Always a job to be done at the boathouse.’
‘I wanted to play football after school.’
Archie looked at his brother. ‘We’ll play tomorrow morning. I’m only working a half day this Saturday.’
Ted sighed. He watched Archie drag his best football from beneath a chair in the corner of the room before flicking it up and catching it.
‘Not inside,’ said Jason.
Archie rolled his eyes at Ted. Ted half smiled but couldn’t help wishing his brother was coming straight home after school. He leaned forward and finished his cereal. As he did, his brother crossed the kitchen and pushed his football into Ted’s arms.
‘Lose it and I will kill you,’ said Archie, ruffling his brother’s hair before calling goodbyes as he ran from the room.
Amy poured herself a cup of instant coffee before coming to sit at the table. The front door slammed.
‘You’re too soft on him,’ she said reproachfully to Jason, then, as Ted started to push his books and sandwiches into his school bag, ‘There’s some fruit in the bowl.’
‘We can afford to feed our own family,’ said Jason. Ted looked in the fruit bowl but turned his nose up at the blackening bananas.
‘Yes, and I’ll make him a sandwich,’ Ted heard his mother reply.
He sat on the floor and pulled on his school shoes. Out of habit, he felt for his phone, usually hidden in the inside pocket of his bag. But the pocket was empty.
‘Give me five minutes and I’ll walk you to school,’ said Jason.
Ted grinned. ‘I’ll wait for you outside.’
When the door slammed behind him, Ted stopped and looked towards the foot of the steps. His brother was waiting for him. Ted’s stomach turned and he walked slowly down. When he reached the bottom of the steps, Archie pressed his hand on his chest.
‘I told you, you could have your phone back after a week, and a deal’s a deal.’ Archie reached into his back pocket and handed Ted his phone. ‘But next time it’s a month. And if I ever catch you sending a message like that again, I really will kill you.’
Ted stared up at his brother.
‘Understand?’ said Archie.
Ted swallowed, then he nodded. For a moment he wondered whether he shouldn’t ask the question, but he couldn’t help himself. ‘Are you scared?’ he whispered.
‘Scared?’ Archie laughed and shook his head.
But Ted knew he was lying. He sat on the bottom step and watched his brother run across the lane and onto the common. Once Archie was nothing more than a dot in the distance, Ted clicked the button on the side of his phone. The screen flashed into life. He hesitated, but then began typing out a new message.
It’s Ted. Please help.
His finger shook as it hovered over the send button.
CHAPTER 31
At eleven o’clock last night, I sent my revised podcast manuscript to Madeline. Writing about my own mum’s death left me thinking about how I’d felt at the start of the year, when I’d been desperate for answers to questions unasked for too long. I wanted the truth for my mum and understand completely how Dani feels now. A little after midnight, Madeline replied to me with further edits, and we agreed to meet for coffee in Richmond this morning.
Following the path across the top of the common, I look towards the home of Jason and Amy Grace, a home they have occupied for the past five years. The house stands on a corner plot, with views extending down towards the river. While their home is impressive, Jason has told me the upkeep is vast and the cost can be overwhelming. As I approach, I see Archie and Ted together in the Graces’ driveway. It’s plain to see how much Ted idolises his brother. Watching them together has at times felt like watching a piece of my own life.
When I reach their driveway, I see Archie charge across the narrow lane that runs in front of their home. I raise my hand to greet him, but his head is down and he doesn’t see me. I call his name but he doesn’t reply. I stand at the end of the driveway where Ted now has his head buried in his phone. I call to him. He looks up, startled, and jumps to his feet, thrusting his phone into his school bag. He mumbles a reply before running up the steps and disappearing into the house.
I turn back out onto the lane. Halfway across the common, Archie is passing the narrow and overgrown entrance to the woods. I look towards him and for a moment find myself gripped. Keeping him in view, I move slowly back towards my own house. When the number 29 bus pulls up on the Lower Haddley Road, I stop again. Two older teenagers step off the bus and I see Archie greet them with a fleeting fist bump. Beyond them stands the soaring bell tower of St Stephen’s. The church’s bright blue stained-glass windows and its heavy oak door are as grand and imposing as ever. Only a stray strip of blue and white police tape, trapped on the railings and fluttering in the breeze, suggests any interruption to the church’s tranquil existence.
I look back at the three teenagers, now crossing towards the river. Archie follows the two older boys, his rucksack thrown over his shoulder. And it’s then that I realise what made me stop. Hanging from the back of Archie’s rucksack is a pair of bright orange trainers.
CHAPTER 32
Dani stood alone at the back of a packed incident room. She watched Mat wheel himself from behind his desk and position himself directly alongside the station’s senior officer. When Chief Inspector Freeman stepped forward to address the unit, everyone fell silent.
‘Twelve months ago, our whole team here in Haddley was shaken to its core. We suffered an attack at the very heart of this department. But not for one moment did I ever doubt the strength and resolve of this unit nor of the officers that make it the very best team in London. Today, I couldn’t be prouder to be able to say the simple words, DS Mat Moore is going to kick off our briefing.’
Cheers echoed around the room and Dani saw Mat’s chest swell with pride. Freeman grasped hold of his hand to officially endorse his return. The chief inspector knew what people wanted, Dani thought, she had to give her that.
‘A huge thank you to everyone here for welcoming me home,’ said Mat, ‘but now it’s time to get back to business. Hopefully by now each of you is fully aware of your roles for Monday. The reconstruction will take place at the same time as last year’s attack. The supermarket will be decorated as it was on Hallowe’en. Those of you assigned to conversing with members of the public, please remember not only to ask them if they saw anything that evening but also if they know anybody else who might have.’
Dani looked at her husband. He’d let his blonde hair grow longer. She hadn’t noticed before, but it had a gentle wave running through it. She only ever thought of him with a close, military crop. When was the last time she’d really looked at him?
‘Following up on those names –’ Dani realised Mat was still speaking ‘– might allow us access to key witnesses who have been previously missed or overlooked. PC Higgins will retrace my footsteps for the cameras and PC Fidler those of DC Cash.’ DS Moore paused and stared across the room at his wife. Dani held his gaze but her skin prickled as the eyes of the unit turned upon her. ‘Detective Constable Cash,’ he continued, still looking at his wife, ‘will join me in speaking to the media as required. I’m pleased to say we will have television coverage from BBC London, Sky News, GB News and London Live. The local press has promised us front-page coverage and I’m sure a number of the rolling twenty-four-hour so-called news sites will pick up the story.’ Dani stared down at her shoes and waited for Mat to continue. ‘Thank you to everyone who worked so hard in making this happen. I am determined we will still make arrests in this case.’
Hearing the intensity in Mat’s voice, his absolute commitment, Dani felt a fleeting flush of pride. It was something she hadn’t heard for so long, but listening to him rally his colleagues, she recognised this was where he belonged.
Mat edged his chair backwards as CI Freeman again stepped forward. ‘Thank you, DS Moore,’ she said. ‘We all want to see a result on this. You’ve had an incredibly tough year and we all appreciate and welcome your return.’ Freeman smiled and firmly gripped Mat’s shoulder. Dani saw him flinch. She knew how much he would have hated the senior officer’s touch.
‘Along with the return of DS Moore, it’s also been a challenging week for Detective Constable Cash. I’m sure most of you will be aware by now that the body discovered under the fire-ravaged community centre was that of Angela Cash, DC Cash’s mother. All of our sympathies, of course, go to Daniella and her family at this difficult time.’
Once again, Dani stared at the floor, only lifting her head when Freeman continued her address. ‘DS Barnsdale will lead the immediate investigation of that case and we are expecting a swift resolution.’
Watching Freeman leave the room, Dani grasped her hands together, the nails from one hand digging into the back of her other. As the unit went back to work, Dani returned to her desk, snatched hold of her bag and pressed the silver button to exit. Walking through the rear doors, leaving the unit where she had spent so much of her life, her heart sank. Hearing the doors close behind her, she realised they were closing on her home.
CHAPTER 33
Having agreed a final set of edits to the podcast script with Madeline, I catch the train back to St Marnham station. From there, I follow the narrow footpath that runs across the top of the woods, before winding its way through to Haddley Common. Often it becomes overgrown, and I have to push aside thorny branches before I emerge onto the southern corner of the common.
Victorian villas line the quiet lane and the first house I reach is the Graces’ family home. I pause, staring at it, thinking about the trainers I saw hanging from Archie’s rucksack. What happened at this house on the night of the fire? Did Archie run through the woods, directly back to his home? Did someone help him? And late in the night, did Archie go back and retrieve the knife?
I cross the common, passing my own home, and walk down onto the Lower Haddley Road, glancing briefly at St Stephen’s before turning away from the river. I cut through the weaving side streets of my hometown, until I arrive on Haddley Hill. I stand opposite a small row of terraced houses. Nestled in the middle is a house clearly distinct from each of the others. The houses to either side are weathered with age but this house’s façade is relatively modern. Its bricks are a brighter red, its window frames are plastic, not wood, and its front door is finished with a synthetic sheen. It’s Dani’s rebuilt childhood home.
I cross Haddley Hill Road and follow a narrow passageway that leads to the back of the house. Dani’s old home is built to the same design as the rest of the terrace with a small upstairs bedroom jutting out above the rear kitchen below. I imagine Jack Cash, Dani tightly held in his arms, clambering out of the bedroom window; a neighbour’s ladder helping them flee the fire.
When I return to the front of the house, I find the last of the schoolchildren making their way up the hill, heading home in high spirits and looking forward to the weekend. I now pass directly in front of Dani’s old home. I glance in through the living-room window. A child’s train track covers the floor and toys are scattered across the room. Stepping aside for an older woman as she shuffles up the hill carrying two full bags of shopping from the local mini market, I linger for a moment. I imagine the room as part of Dani’s childhood, but then all the horrors that followed flood into my mind.
A shout from across the road snaps my attention back.
‘There she is!’
I turn to see a group of four teenage boys running out of Haddley Hill Park. They charge across the road. The woman with the bags of shopping has stopped outside the neighbouring house. She has put both bags down on the pavement and is rummaging for her house key.
‘You crazy old biddy,’ shouts one of the boys, as the four run towards her.
‘You’re like a paedo, you are,’ another cries.
The woman doesn’t move; her eyes are wide with panic. One boy sprints forwards and yells directly into her face. ‘You make me sick!’ Then he grabs one of her shopping bags and empties it upside down onto the pavement. The boys scream with laughter, taunting the woman as she tries to bend and retrieve her shopping.
‘Mince pies!’ howls another boy, grabbing a box of the cakes and throwing it at the woman.
‘No wonder she’s so fat,’ cries another. ‘Are you going to use those to lure in some other little girl?’
I run up the street. ‘Back off,’ I yell at the boys. They take a step back and stare at me. ‘Now!’
I bend down and begin scooping up the woman’s shopping.
‘She’s a pervert,’ one of the boys shouts.
‘Get out of here!’ I shout back. The boys head down the road, hurling abuse as they go. I turn to the woman. She is still clutching her box of cakes. ‘Can you find your keys?’ I ask quietly. Her hands shake so violently she’s unable to unzip the side pocket of her shopping bag.
‘I can do that for you,’ I say.
Once the door is unlocked, she takes my arm and I help her slowly inside her home.
CHAPTER 34
‘Let me make you another cup of tea,’ says Pamela, as we sit together opposite her bright living-room fire. On her lap, she is still clutching a framed photograph of her daughter, Jeannie.
‘I should probably get going,’ I reply.
‘Nonsense,’ she says. ‘I owe you far more than one cup of tea.’ I smile, before she adds: ‘And you must have another mince pie. I always say, it’s never too early for a good mince pie. And these are so deep filled.’
‘They are very nice.’
‘That’s settled, then.’
Pamela props up the photograph on the small table beside her chair. She crosses the room and heads into the kitchen. I can hear her running the tap to put the kettle on to boil. ‘Won’t be a minute,’ she calls, coming back past the living room door. ‘I’m just going to pop upstairs and put my slippers on.’
Pamela has told me of her interview at the police station. She explained her only intention was to try to help the girl, who has always reminded her so much of her own daughter. I feel certain she was well intentioned, but Pamela is a woman whom the modern world has slightly passed by. Looking around her living room, I imagine she grew up at a time when neighbours still looked out for each other, took an interest in one another’s families. It would have seemed the most natural thing in the world to her to check in on somebody else’s child. Not any more.
I reach for the picture of Jeannie. It’s a school photograph, Jeannie with her hair pulled back and her school tie neatly knotted. I’d guess it was taken when she was in her mid-teens. There are other pictures of her dotted around the room but in each one she is younger. The school photograph of Jeannie reminds me of the one I have hanging in my hallway of my brother. In the same way as Nick, Jeannie feels frozen in time. I hear Pamela coming back down the stairs and when she walks into the kitchen, I go and stand in the doorway.
‘Can I ask what happened to Jeannie – your Jeannie?’
Pamela busies herself with the kettle. ‘She was such a daddy’s girl, although that sounds such a silly thing to say.’
‘Why’s that?’ I ask. ‘Lots of girls are close to their fathers.’
‘Jeannie never met her father, but she idolised him nevertheless.’ Pamela picks up the teapot and walks past me into her living room. ‘You bring the cakes.’ She puts the teapot down on the table before bending forward to turn down the fire. ‘It soon gets so warm in here, even with my rattling old windows.’ I watch her settle back into her chair. She looks directly at me. ‘I encouraged her in that. Thomas was such a good man. He’s been gone more than forty years but I still talk to him every day.’ I realise Pamela must have lived a very lonely life.
I look across at the small set of bookshelves. Taking pride of place is a photograph of a man in Royal Navy dress military uniform. ‘May I?’ I ask.
‘Please do,’ replies Pamela, her pride in her husband still evident.
I stand and reach for the image. ‘He looks like quite an imposing figure.’
‘He was already a lieutenant commander and would have gone much further. He might look a little daunting, but to me he was a kind-hearted softie. I don’t suppose you would expect me to say that about a military man. Pass me your cup.’ Pamela leans forward and picks up the teapot. ‘I’ll let you add your own milk. Of course, when I say I talk to him every day, I do just mean his picture. I don’t want you thinking I’m completely bonkers.’ I laugh before Pamela adds, ‘Not yet, anyway.’
